Desire
by Charlie Winchester
Summary: DARe. Don drops in at Charlie's office, but it's not Charlie who he finds there...


_Dedicated to the author of 'Basin of Desire' -- Belligerent-road-pylon-- for the inspiration. I'm a huge fan of Don/Amita now._

**Desire**

She had a nice ass.

A _really _nice ass.

How the hell had he not noticed _that _before?

Probably because he had never seen it accentuated by the black, snug-fitting jeans she wore right then.

_Why _was he still staring?

He cleared his throat and slipped through the doorway into Charlie's office, letting the door swing gently shut behind him.

Amita let out a cry of surprise and spun around; dropping the piece of chalk she had formerly held in her hand. "Agent Eppes! God, you scared me." She quickly bent down to pick up the chalk, and Don berated himself for taking the chance to admire the certain features of her that drove him to distraction. "If you're looking for Charlie, he's not here. He and Larry left twenty minutes ago. I was just working on a..." her small hands fluttered embarrassedly as she stammered, "…thing." A tinge of pink coloured her cheeks.

Against his better judgement, Don stepped forward, leaving only a foot left between them. "What kind of thing?" he asked conversationally.

"Oh," Amita faltered hesitantly, "just uh, a formula that Charlie started the other day. Nothing… important. So, what are you doing here?" Uneasily, she broke eye contact, turning her almost extraordinarily chocolate eyes to the floor.

She was too damn gorgeous for her own good. If Charlie didn't make a move soon… it was getting harder and harder to curb his impulses around this woman. Don inwardly groaned and joined her side, staring absently at the mess of equations and fractions on the chalkboard. "Just stopping by." His gaze skimmed the jumble of numbers before him. "Where did Charlie and Larry go?"

"I think they made a trip to the movies or something."

"In the middle of the day?"

"I'm not surprised anymore."

"So I guess they're not coming back anytime…" Don trailed off when Amita looked up at him, her head tipping back in a way that he was beginning to find familiar and sweet, "…soon." Amita shook her head slightly, dark curls swishing around her shoulders.

Without thinking, Don reached out with one hand and caught a small ringlet between his fingers, weaving them through her hair. He'd always wanted to touch her hair; to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

It was.

Amita's brown eyes flickered, smouldering and seductive. They were by far the most intriguing eyes he had ever seen. As if under hypnosis, his hand slid to the back of her neck, gently cradling it as she gazed up at him. "Agent Eppes…" She moved, and her hips brushed against him ever so lightly, but he felt it. His blood ran hot in his veins, and his breath left him in a hiss.

"Amita…" God, she was making this difficult. Don barely held back his groan.

She flattened her hands against his chest. "You started it," she whispered, smoothing them over the sculpted muscles in his shoulders to wind around his neck.

"You tempted me," he countered in a voice even quieter than hers. He could feel the heat radiating from her body.

"I don't… tempt…" Amita breathed in raggedly as his hands trailed lightly up and down her spine.

"Yes you do."

In the next instant, his lips were crashing down on hers with an intensity that nearly drove her to her knees. His lips were warm and soft, the kiss passionate and demanding, and she responded eagerly.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes flew by with no effect on the two figures in Charles Eppes' office, who were immensely absorbed in each other. Slowly but surely, they had stumbled to a chair on one side of the room.

It was only when a full twenty minutes had passed and Amita felt the buttons on her blouse beginning to open when she pushed him away. "Not here."

Don dragged his lips from her neck with great difficulty. "Cruel woman," he mumbled grumpily.

Amita laughed and Don tugged her against his chest, fully enjoying the feel of her sitting in his lap. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but Don's hands flew straight to her hips, holding them still. "I would strongly advise against doing that if you ever want to get out of here."

"And if I don't?"

"You'd better hope they don't plan on coming back anytime in the near future," he growled.

Amita laughed again, kissed him, and jumped up. "I'm deliberately ignoring the implications of that statement." She darted behind the desk as Don stood, inching closer. When he moved right, she moved left, keeping an even distance between them.

Don smirked. "Well then, I suppose you'll have to invite me over this evening, if you insist on being so devious," he said, all the while calmly stalking her around the desk.

Amita grinned mischievously. "I guess I will. You can use your FBI intuitiveness to find out where I live. See you at seven." Smugly, she turned to face the chalkboard and began scribbling on it with vigour.

"Am I being _dismissed_?"

"Yes. Shoo. I have work to do, and you can't be around here distracting me." Amita chanced a glance over her shoulder to find him staring at her incredulously. She waved her hand in an over-dramatized gesture of indifference, trying not to smile.

Don scowled at her. "I'll have my revenge, you know."

"I'm sure you will" was her cool response, her head once more turned away from him.

Don stormed out the door. Amita smiled, only to start in surprise when her cell phone rang merely two seconds later.

"You'll need to tell Charlie he won't want to use that chair anymore," he said, and Amita burst out laughing.

"Go to work, you goon."

* * *

The doorbell rang at precisely 6:59, and, as soon as a grinning Amita Ramanujan opened her front door, Don launched a fierce attack on her mouth. The door slammed shut behind him as he drove her back against the wall of her living room, parting her lips with his expert tongue and rubbing his hands up and down her back. Hers, in turn, were clutching his forearms for support, feeling strong muscles ripple beneath her fingertips. 

The minutes following were a mixture of tongues, lips and teeth, colliding again and again. Don's suit jacket was quickly discarded on the floor, followed by Amita's denim jacket.

"Do you know how long I've wanted you?" he rumbled, his voice low and dangerously rough.

"Mmm…" Amita hummed through her lips as he made quick work on the buttons of her shirt.

His dark eyes were serious as he regarded her solemnly. "Forever."

"You're not a morning person are you?"

"No."

Amita drew lazy circles on his arm with her forefinger. "Good."

"Does that mean we can stay here all day?"

"No."

Don lifted the blanket to peek at her. "Hey!"

"You snore," she announced proudly.

"I do not."

"You do."

"Prove it." Don huffed.

Amita scowled at him, a look he found positively endearing first thing in the morning. "Fine. Next time I'll bring a recorder."

"There's gonna be a next time?"

Amita smacked him. "You never know. I might just sneak into your house and leave it running all night long."

"I have alarms. You'll just have to find another way to get in." A smug grin toyed on his lips. "For example…"

"Alright, that's enough." Amita rolled over, but Don wasn't fooled.

"You're laughing." Sure enough, her shoulders were shaking. "I knew it."

"You have to go to work soon. Get up." Amita snatched her robe from the chair beside her bed and wrapped it loosely around her figure, wagging a finger at him.

"I think I'll just stay here and watch you all day."

"You wish." She pointed to his clothes which were scattered all over the floor. "Go."

"You _are _a cruel woman."

Amita rolled her eyes. "Keep this up and I _won't _invite you over again tonight. Put your clothes on. That enough of a reward for you?"

Don rolled over and fell out of the bed with a thump. Amita struggled to hold in her laughter. Don sat up, a grin on his face. "Yes ma'am."

_A/N: Reviews are most definitely welcome. _


End file.
